School Days
by BolintheBendingBro
Summary: A thing for a roleplay with Mickidona that I felt like writing. Warning: May be a trigger.


Footsteps tapped out the beat of Matthew Williams's heart as he carefully positioned himself between bookshelves in the library.

They were advancing.

Loud bouts of German and indistinct cackling floated closer and closer to his hiding place.

He knew they were coming.

He shut his eyes and watched the fireworks explode underneath his eyelids. God knows what they had in store for him today. He took a silent and shaking breath, feeling the cool wood press against his pale skin.

Silence.

Hey, that was nice for a change. Matt carefully shifted so that the position allowed more comfort. Straining his ears, he kept still, waiting for some sort of sign,

Nothing.

An exhale. "Whew, that was-"

"Going somewhere, mon ami?" A familiar voice purred, dripping with malice.

Oh merde.

"I think you should stay awhile, no, amigo? A tanned hand forced itself onto Matthew's shoulder, pushing him into the open. "We do enjoy company." The Spaniard behind him sounded like he was beaming, sunlight practically radiating from his voice.

"We sure do…." A third, thickly accented voice, one he knew all too well, sounded from his right.

It was them, Francis Bonnefoy, Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Hetare High's socialites, the reigning junior students. The Bad Touch Trio.

All three were bent on making Matthew Williams's life a living hell.

"Aw...chin up, Matthieu, no need to look so glum.." Francis advanced, touching a delicate hand to the Canadian's chin, and bringing it upward. "It's not like we're going to spend much time here, we wouldn't want to waste our energy in beating such a loser up, y'know." Some obnoxious laughter erupted from the Spanish native behind him, and another shove upset his stance. He caught himself just before his face would be smashed into Francis's chest.

Matthew said nothing.

"What? Moose got your tongue, eh?" Antonio cackled into his palm. "Too much maple syrup, probably." Gil remarked, leaning against a mahogany bookshelf with a sly smirk. Another shove from behind. Tonio circled around to face him, a bright smile complimenting his facial features. He seemed innocent, that he could do no harm, because "He's just too nice to everyone!" It was true, Antonio did a good job of covering his tracks, leaving only a trail of passionate energy and smiles. Disgusting.

The green eyes flickered with malice, sending a warning to the Canadian. He narrowly missed the punch thrown to his head, and there he stood, careful not to show his cowering.

Another punch. Missed. Another.

It hit.

Matt felt a ringing in his ear, and the pain slowly bloomed around his head area. "Now, now, Antonio, it's Gilbert's turn." Francis nonchalantly checked his nails with a smirk. The Frenchman made no attempt to cover his aggression, in fact, he used it to an advantage for intimidation. He was on the colder and cruel side, using words and mindfuckery as his weapon, as opposed to Tonio and Gil's physical attempts.

Gil shot out like a lighting bolt, and seized the Canadian's arm, holding it in the most uncomfortable position Matthew had ever experienced. "Heh…..how's that, mutter ficker…." Only a few whimpers escaped from his lips.

The albino glanced around the corridors, the floor, but never made eye contact with Mattie. Only the sounds of snickers and shuffling of feet greeted his ears.

One last kick to the shin, and he was free.

Wait.

Not yet.

Antonio brandished a small, but sharp knife, running it over his face with a quick swipe. With the cock of his head, Francis stepped forward, grasping Mattie's chin again, but with a little more drive behind it. He swallowed, and took a deep breath. "W-What do you- What did I d-do to you? S-Stop"

"Hey, amigo, what was that? A squeak, or something?"

"Funny, yeah, I thought i heard something…?" More amused snickers. Invisible tears stung his face.

"Hm, I could have sworn I saw someone here…" Francis glanced around in mock confusion, smirk giving his fun and games awat, then met his eye.

"Wait….Who are you?"

Another punch, kick, and more laughter that would haunt him while he slept. The three walked away with Matthew crumpled on the ground, shouting jeers and other jabs behind him.  
"Stupid Canuck!" "Weak little scheisse!" "Worthless!" "Homo!" "Ah….what a loser….."

Their footsteps echoed just like they came in. When no sound was found, Matthew finally let his tears out.

"W-W-What...what did I d-do..?" He hid his face in his crimson bunny hug, the fabric running against his face. Due to his position, he couldn't see a thing; everything was tipped on its side, and blurring.

But he could see a familiar approaching figure, sauntering towards him. Alfred. Some hope.

"Ah..o-oh, thank Ottawa, Alfred…!" His twin brother eased up to him, laying on the floor, bruises painting his skin, shaking. A bitter silence passed as the kin stared at each other, waiting for a response.

"Ugh…...damn homo…." The American, shaking his head in disgust, jabbed a sneaker into his Canadian-born brother's stomach, and walked the opposite direction, muttering inaudible things.

The shadow of his brother faded when everything turned black.

((This is a kinda backstory thing for a roleplay that Mickidona and I were doing! It's hard to explain, but, in this AU, Matt gets basically shat upon everywhere he goes. Until Gil shows up….heh.

This is a thing that very few would understand, but I felt like posting this. I'M SORRY THAT SOME CHARACTERS ARE NOT…... IN... CHARACTER. IT PHYSICALLY PAINS ME TO MAKE SPAIN AND AMERICA SUCH ASSHOLES, BUT IT WAS VITAL TO THE STORY. PLLEEEEASE DON'T HATE ME I LOVE THEM BUT….

Yeah. Enjoy!

~Bo))


End file.
